on round of the journey put to flight the ideals of the night.
But things fell out in a manner she had not pictured. They halted before
noon on the north bank of the Loir, in a level meadow with lines of
poplars running this way and that, and filling all the place with the
soft shimmer of leaves. Blue succory, tiny mirrors of the summer sky,
flecked the long grass, and the women picked bunches of them, or, Italian
fashion, twined the blossoms in their hair. A road ran across the meadow
to a ferry, but the ferryman, alarmed by the aspect of the party, had
conveyed his boat to the other side and hidden himself.

Presently Madame St. Lo espied the boat, clapped her hands and must have
it. The poplars threw no shade, the flies teased her, the life of a
hermit--in a meadow--was no longer to her taste.

"Let us go on the water!" she cried. "Presently you will go to bathe,
Monsieur, and leave us to grill!"

"Two livres to the man who will fetch the boat!" Count Hannibal cried.

In less than half a minute three men had thrown off their boots, and were
swimming across, amid the laughter and shouts of their fellows. In five
minutes the boat was brought.

It was not large and would hold no more than four. Tavannes' eye fell on
Carlat.

"You understand a boat," he said. "Go with Madame St. Lo. And you, M.
La Tribe."

"But you are coming?" Madame St. Lo cried, turning to the Countess. "Oh,
Madame," with a curtsey, "you are not? You--"

"Yes, I will come," the Countess answered.

"I shall bathe a short distance up the stream," Count Hannibal said. He
took from his belt the packet of letters, and as Carlat held the boat for
Madame St. Lo to enter, he gave it to the Countess, as he had given it to
her yesterday. "Have a care of it, Madame," he said in a low voice, "and
do not let it pass out of your hands. To lose it may be to lose my
head."

The colour ebbed from her cheeks. In spite of herself her shaking hand
put back the packet. "Had you not better then--give it to Bigot?" she
faltered.

"He is bathing."

"Let him bathe afterwards."

"No," he answered almost harshly; he found a species of pleasure in
showing her that, strange as their relations were, he trusted her. "No;
take it, Madame. Only have a care of it."

She took it then, hid it in her dress, and he turned away; and she turned
towards the boat. La Tribe stood beside the stern, holding it for her to
enter, and as her fingers rested an ins